


Love is on the next page - Addendum

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 18:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1314376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A list of different firsts Stiles and Derek went through together after getting together<br/>Set in the "Love is on the next page" verse (reading it could help understanding the setting)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is on the next page - Addendum

  * First date



Since Derek asked him to go for coffee, they do go for coffee.

Except it starts as a total disaster.

Derek and Stiles had agreed to meet at the little coffee shop outside of campus that all the students know about, the one with a mezzanine room and the best biscotti in town, and Derek is there first.

What is more certain to make sure that Stiles see how sincere he is than buying the drinks?

Unfortunately, when Stiles arrives and gets a sniffs of the black coffee with a hint of hazelnut syrup and a sprinkle of cinnamon that Derek got him - it reminded him of Stiles’ eyes - his nose scrunches up and he smiles awkwardly at Derek.

"No?" Derek asks and Stiles shakes his head with an almost pout (and really that is not fair).

"I never drink coffee," he says, looking apologetic, his hand flying to cover Derek’s on the table as Derek looks down. "But it’s okay - I’ll just … go and get myself something, ok?"

Stiles is back in a flash, a frappucino in one hand even though it’s cold outside and two spoons in the other.

As he sits down with a shy smile on his face and as Derek reaches for the second spoon to scoop some of the whipped cream, he finds himself smiling back.

Maybe not that much of a disaster.

  * First movie date



The first coffee date leads to a couple more, and one late afternoon, Stiles’ fingers don’t let go of Derek’s sleeve when they have to leave (and put the five or so cups on their table).

"I don’t …," he starts, suddenly shy and Derek puts the tray down to focus on him, "I don’t want our date to be over."

Derek can’t help but beam at that confession and he takes a step toward Stiles who is suddenly fascinated with the colors of the hem of Derek’s jacket. “Hey,” he says, making Stiles look at him, “I really don’t want it to be over either, but I think the baristas are going to kick us out if we don’t leave on our own.”

Stiles nods and Derek reaches to take his hand in his. “What do you want to do?” he asks quietly, their linked hands swinging between them.

Stiles looks at them before tightening his fingers around Derek’s. “Movie?”

"I’d love that," Derek replies, trying to stomp on the voice in his head that says that the back row in the theater is going to be Buh-sy.

None of that. He doesn’t want to assume that Stiles is a virgin, but when they spoke of exes, the younger man changed the subject, and either he’s a virgin or he has been in a traumatic relationship - either way, Derek is not about to set the pace on the physicality of their relationship.

"There is a Disney revival in the Ruby," Stiles continues, and Derek can see how the moles on his cheeks are highlighted by his blush.

He doesn’t say anything and lets Stiles pull him toward the theater.

To know that Stiles’ favorite Disney is “Beauty and the Beast” doesn’t come as a surprise - not really, given the role given to books in that tale.

"Does that make me the Beast?" he asks jokingly as they come out of the theater, Stiles turns wide eyes at him behind his glasses.

"Absolutely not," he replies firmly, a blush spreading on his face and neck. "You’re too …," he starts, before biting his lower lip to stop himself, and IT’S NOT LIKE DEREK NEEDED MORE INCENTIVE TO LOOK AT STILES’ LIPS.

"… too much of an attention whore," Stiles finishes, his sheepish expression turning into a smirk and Derek gasps.

"Me?" he exclaims, his arms tightening around Stiles’ shoulders. "An attention whore? Excuse you!"

Stiles leans in the embrace and pats his side. “Yes, you are, Mr. Dramatic entrances. But that’s ok, I still l-“

Derek turns his head to look at Stiles who looks like he has been caught red-handed stealing cookies. A moment of silence passes between them, their breath quickening slightly and then Stiles seems to make a decision and reaches to kiss him. “I still love you,” he says in a breath, looking at Derek over his glasses, his eyelashes casting a shadow over his brown eyes.

"I love you too," Derek replies casually, even though all he wants to do is jump around and dance like a ridiculous dork and twirl Stiles in the air.

"Good," Stiles simply adds, turning his head away, his thumb rubbing circles over Derek’s waistband.

  * First time Stiles picks Derek up



Derek doesn’t want anyone to think that Stiles is the “girl” in their relationship. First of all, that’s terribly hetero-normative and insulting. Second of all, if anything, Derek wants to be taken care of. He wants to feel like Stiles is in charge, he wants not to know where they’re going and to be surprised, he wants Stiles to open the door for him and he wants …

Oh, fuck it, he wants everything.

So, when Stiles asks him on a date after the football finale, and offers to drive and pick the place, Derek blushes and accepts, saving his private dancing and squealing party for when he’s alone.

Sure, he didn’t expect Stiles to dress up, but Holy macaroni on a parmeggiano wheel, isn’t that an image he wants to commit to memory forever. Stiles’ glasses are firmly on his nose, but he’s wearing a black shirt and black pants - topped with a grey bow tie that Derek wants to take off.

With his teeth.

He looks down at himself, at his white shirt and his dark jeans, and he wonders if he looks ridiculous. Until he sees the look on Stiles’ face.

His eyes are open wide, his jaw is just slightly unhinged, and he’s frozen into place as he takes Derek in from toe to head.

"Wow," he lets out, and Derek looks down with a self-depreciating chuckle.

"Wow yourself," he says, tweaking Stiles’ bow tie as he comes closer. 

Stiles scrunches his nose as he straightens it back into place, before opening the door to the passenger side. “If you may,” he says with a crooked smile, and Derek can’t really fight the blush that comes up as he sits down.

Again, when they reach the restaurant, Stiles scrambles to get out of the car fast enough to open the door for Derek to come out of the car - Derek is 97.2% sure that Stiles tripped over his own feet, but he can’t prove it, and even if he could, this is to perfect and courteous of his boyfriend that he wouldn’t bring it up.

The little Japanese restaurant is tasteful, both in décor and in the plates, and Derek truly enjoys himself, laughing when Stiles tries to feed him some of his sashimi. They manage not to get any soy sauce on them, which is an achievement in itself, and a little while later, while they’re just walking around before returning to the dorms, their kisses taste of wasabi and perfection.

  * The first time one of them is sick



It’s supposed to be their movie make out night, but Derek sent him a text saying that he couldn’t get out of bed.

To say that Stiles is worried is an understatement, and even the prospect of tearing Scott a new one on their video games can’t keep him still.

"Go," Scott says, throwing his controller away with a fond yet mocking smile. "Go take care of him."

Stiles presses a kiss to the top of Scott’s head and he’s out in a flash. It’s the first time that Derek is sick - or that Stiles knows of it anyway - and he has to trust his guts to bring what is needed.

Stopping by the 7-Eleven on his way, Stiles looks at his options. Crackers, of course. Apple or Cranberry juice? Never mind, he’ll take both. Veggie soup, in case proteins are not agreeing with Derek’s sick body, and a noodle soup in case he needs something substantial. Manuka honey, just in case. A fluffy hot-water bottle (with a wolfish plush toy around it, it’s adorable), because it’s always comforting.

Ok, he’s set.

Stiles knocks softly on Derek’s door, and Derek’s voice comes through it, only it sounds painful and tired.

"Go awaaay."

"It’s me Derek," he calls back, starting to open the door.

"Stiles?!"

"Yeah bunny love," he says, the nickname flying out of his mouth before he can keep it in. "I’m here to help."

An horrible cough makes the door seemingly shake on its hinges, and Stiles winces.

"I don’t want to contaminate you."

"Wait," Stiles says with a frown, "what do you have?" It’s not like he actually wants to get sick.

Derek coughs a little bit more, and Stiles can hear him rustling in his bed. “The plague,” he moans and Stiles scoffs.

"Ok, you big baby," he says, finally opening the door. "I have soup, it will get you better in a sec- oh wow, son of Jor-El," he cuts himself as he takes in Derek’s appearance.

He’s in bed, a t-shirt with a cut-out collar hanging over his shoulders, and his hair is plastered to his forehead - must be a by-product of the fever -, his eyes wide and glassy.

"Oh, Der," Stiles says softly, closing the door and taking a couple of long strides to sit on the bed.

Derek coughs in the crook of his elbow, and when he looks up, there is a blush on his face, but not the good kind.

"Sorry," he croaks and Stiles tuts.

"Nothing to be sorry about - just lie down", he instructs, rushing to get a wet clothe from the bathroom. When he comes back, Derek is lying down, his eyes hooded as they follow him. Stiles wastes no more time and brushes the clothes on Derek’s forehead, pushing his wet hair away.

He should be grossed out, probably, but he can’t, really, not when Derek lets out a little contented sigh and leans into the touch of the cool clothe.

"See?" Stiles asks with a soft smile, applying the clothe to Derek’s cheeks and the back of his neck. "Isn’t that better?"

"You make everything better," Derek whispers raspily, and Stiles can feel himself heating up.

"Guh - oh, thank you," he stammers, before pulling his bag of groceries closer to them. "Do you want to try some of the soup I bought at the Deli?"

Derek whines and looks away from him but Stiles expected as much. “Just a little?” he asks, conscious that his voice is taking a cooing quality that would piss Derek off, were he in his normal state. “And then I’ll cuddle you back to sleep?”

"Promise?"

Derek’s voice is still raspy, but it’s so small in this one word, fragile almost, that Stiles promises himself not to make fun of his boyfriend when he’s better.

Not too much anyway.

  * The first time they … you know



Stiles has no shame about being a virgin in college.

He is not exactly proud of it, either, but he doesn’t want it to be that big thing. He just hasn’t find someone suitable to frick frack with, and ok, using frick frack is not going to help is it ?

He tries not to think of Derek’s many conquests, even though his boyfriend insists that there hasn’t been that many - 2 girls and 3 boys, that’s it - but there are moments when Stiles feels that maybe, his “livresque” knowledge of sex isn’t going to help to keep Derek satisfied.

And boy does he want to satisfy Derek, seriously, he wants to get all up in his junk and drive him crazy, turn the usually composed upperclassman into a wriggling and moaning mess …

"Stiles?" Derek looks up from where he had his mouth latched onto Stiles’ neck. "You with me here?"

"Do you think I’m boring?" Stiles blabbers before he can stop himself and Derek pulls away completely, leaving him cold and still a little bothered.

"Do I look bored?" he retorts and Stiles shakes his head. "Are _you_ bored?”

"What?" Stiles exclaims, sitting up and trying to file away the fact that Derek is sitting on his lap now, "No! Absolutely not," he adds, "but sometimes, it feels like I’m not doing, you know … anything?"

"Anything?" Derek repeats with a cocked eyebrow, "Like, sexually ?"

"Yes, Derek," Stiles huffs, just on this side of annoyed, "sexually. I am a virgin who can drive, but doesn’t know how to tell you that I - That you - That I want …"

Derek cups his face between his hands. “What do you want, Stiles?”

His voice is soft, comforting like a hot cocoa with marshmallows and Stles lets out a breath.

"I want to suck you, Der, so so much."

Derek opens wide eyes, and for a second, his fingers press on Stiles’ cheeks. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re more than welcome …”

"Down your pants?" Stiles supplies, breaking the tension he feels is going to make him explode.

"For example," Derek replies with a chuckle and he presses his forehead against Stiles. "But you don’t have to do it just to prove something to yourself or to me."

"Oh, I want it," Stiles says, hurrying to scoot from under Derek’s body and making them switch position.

"Wait," Derek says, one hand on Stiles’ shoulder. "For your first time, it might be easier if I - that is, if you …," he trails off, and this time, it’s Stiles who cups Derek’s jaw in his hand.

"I trust you, bunbun," he coos and Derek rolls his eyes fondly at him.

"It will be easier if I’m sitting on the edge of the bed and you kneel in front of me."

Stiles gulps and scrambles to get off the bed. “Anything to make me smaller than you,” he jokes before his lungs stop working because Derek is taking off his pants and wow.

Would.

You.

Look.

At that.

Those thighs, those hipbones, that cock, even those knees, did he mention Derek’s magnificent, sculptural, museum worthy cock ?

Stiles feels his mouth watering on its own accord, and he very nearly drops to his knees in front of Derek.

If he had any shred of doubt about whether he finds the male anatomy attractive, well, it’s gone now.

"Oh wow," Stiles breathes out, and Derek looks away as he sits back down, a blush on his face and that little mouth grimace he does when he feels self-conscious.

Stiles is probably the only one who knows that, apart from Derek’s family, and to see it while he’s psyching himself to just do it - it makes Stiles feel better.

"Derek, you look …" he says, taking a deep breath as he slides down to the floor, "you’re like the human version of the Book of Kells."

That gets Derek’s attention from whatever fascinated him in his linen.

Their shared fascination for the legendary illuminated book has been a stepping stone in their relationship, and to be compared to it - Derek is even more self-conscious, but in a good way.

"Come here," he says, voice rough and deep, crooking a finger to get Stiles closer.

Stiles licks his lips and shuffles to get closer, putting his hands on Derek’s knees and slowly pushing them apart to get a proper look at his Cock.

Yes, it deserves a capital letter.

It’s long but not too long, large but not … overwhelmingly so, veiny but in an esthetically pleasant way. God, Stiles feels like Goldilocks, getting exactly what he wanted.

He licks his lips one more time and looks back at Derek’s face.

His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been, and he reaches for Stiles’ mouth with his thumb.

On instinct, Stiles sucks the pad of Derek’s thumb into his mouth and wraps his tongue around the phalanx.

Derek sucks a breath in, jolting at the touch and Stiles smiles, sucking more of the finger into his mouth.

"Ok," Derek says pulling his finger away to take Stiles’ chin in his hand, "I guess you do have a grasp of how to do this."

Stiles smiles proudly - he will deny that he wiggles on his knees but he might have - and he nods toward Derek’s erection.

"Should I just …," he starts and Derek strokes his cheek.

"Do whatever feeld right, Stil-holy shiiiit," he hisses as Stiles launches himself forward, taking the head of his cock between his lips.

Stiles’ tongue massages the underside of the head, and for a little while - don’t ask Derek an exact time frame, he has lost a couple of braincells - it feels like Stiles is getting acquainted with the way Derek feels, the way he tastes.

Not to brag or anything, especially since he has nothing to do with it, but Stiles seems to enjoy himself right there.

Meanwhile, Derek tries really hard not to push past Stiles’ lips - those lips … honest to God, Derek wants to write epic poems about them and their prowesses - letting his boyfriend set the pace.

Slowly, millimeters by millimeters, Stiles takes more of him in his mouth, using his tongue to make the slow pace more enjoyable for Derek, until he pulls off and Derek bites his lip over the whine that threatens to escape.

"Would you," Stiles starts, and God, his voice is just a little bit raspier than usual, Derek is going to DIE, "um … could you, I don’t know …"

"Stiles, use your words," Derek says gently, using his boyfriend’s favorite teasing phrase against him.

"Fuckmymouth."

Derek blinks, trying to clear his mind. “Come again?”

"In a minute, and you heard me," Stiles says coyly, "fuck. My. Mouth."

Derek knows that he doesn’t have to ask again, his hands flying to the back of Stiles’ head to guide him down his cock, going slowly, managing to keep some measure of control but closing his eyes at the incredible feeling of Stiles’ hot, wet mouth around his cock, of his tongue licking the underside of it on his way toward the back of Stiles’ mouth.

Trying to stay still, Derek starts bobbing Stiles’ head on his cock, setting up a rhythm and finding it increasingly difficult to stay silent. His quickening breath turn into pants, alternating with curses and Stiles’ name.

His orgasm almost takes him by surprise, when Stiles moans with his mouth full of Derek’ cock, and a quick look downwards tells Derek that he’s palming himself through his pants.

"Holy fucking …," Derek moans, pushing Stiles’ away, and Stiles whines, tilting his head forwards to get Derek’s cock back in his mouth. "I’m gonna come, Punchki," he says with a crooked smile, using his favorite nickname for Stiles.

It’s Polish, it’s sweet, they need frying to be operational (in Stiles’ case, he needs fried things to be operational, but that’s irrelevant).

And they look better when perfectly iced, which is Derek’s goal for the immediate future, pardon the pun.

"I want to come all over your face," he whispers, "all over your lips and cheeks and your upturned nose, Stiles, all over your pretty face."

Stiles gulps, his chest heaving faster. “Do it.”

In a flash, Derek takes his cock in his hand and with a couple of jerks, comes in ropes over Stiles’ face, some of it caught in Stiles’ eyelashes.

Derek’s come really looks like glaze on Stiles’ pale and flushes skin, and he really, _really_ , enjoys the picture, before pulling Stiles to stand in front of him.

"Come here, Punchki," he repeats, opening Stiles’ pants with agile fingers, "let me devour you."


End file.
